


Agony and Ecstasy

by LadyStormcrow



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alcohol, Blood Kink, Bondage, But Safe Might Be Pushing It, Consensual And Sane, Consensual Kink, Cutting, Dom/sub Play, Don't Try This At Home, Established Relationship, F/M, Intersex, Knifeplay, Oral Sex, Painplay, SkekSa Tops In Case That Wasn't Clear, SkekZok Indulges The Masochist Part Of Stately Sadomasochist, Suspension, Swordplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25531582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyStormcrow/pseuds/LadyStormcrow
Summary: The Ritual-Master has many lusts, but not all of them can be indulged at the Castle. On a visit to Cera-Na to receive tribute from the Mariner, the two old friends enjoy a night of pain and pleasure.
Relationships: skekSa/skekZok (Dark Crystal)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	Agony and Ecstasy

“Ah, some happy news!”

The Chamberlain smiled as he held up the letter the Gelfling messenger had delivered, and the rest of the court listened as he went on reading. “After many unum, Mariner has returned to Cera-Na. She brings new treasures and tribute from far lands, and asks for carriage to come accept them, so they may bring joy and glory to Emperor and all Skeksis.” 

On his throne, skekSo rolled his eyes. He very much doubted the Mariner had written anything as flowery as that. He had not spoken to skekSa in many trine, not since she made her disdain for the Emperor and the petty squabbles of his court clear, but he well remembered that she preferred to keep things to-the-point. Still, the message was clear: _I have gifts, come get them._

It was an agreeable arrangement they’d come to over the centuries. The Mariner might not care for skekSo himself, but she had friends among the others in the Castle; to try and force her to stay here, or to openly punish her for defiance, might lead to … problems. Better to leave her to her own devices - exploring the seas and islands, maintaining the allegiance of the Sifa, and occasionally demonstrating her loyalty to the Empire through gifts of plunder - than to risk upsetting the power balance. 

“Very well. We’ll send someone at first light tomorrow.” 

SkekZok stepped forward, with a quickness that was unlike the stately Ritual-Master. Trying to keep a dignified expression, he bowed and asked, “Sire, allow me. It would be my honor to give the Mariner’s tribute the escort it no doubt deserves.”

The Emperor struggled not to laugh. Who did skekZok think he was fooling? Going to pick up tribute was a job for the Collector or the Treasurer, not one of the highest-ranked officials after the Emperor himself. It could hardly have been more obvious that the Ritual-Master had _other_ reasons for wanting to see the Mariner. 

“Oh fine, you can go. Just make sure you don’t track any sand back this time.”

As the Ritual-Master left to prepare for the journey, skekSo gave a small shake of his head. Why did skekZok feel the need to play this charade every time the Mariner sent a letter? All the Skeksis had their indulgences (reveled in them, in fact), and he doubted any of the others would have begrudged skekZok this one. 

He knew the answer, though: because they _were_ Skeksis. The Ritual-Master had spent all this life crafting and maintaining an image of austere grandeur, devoted to the higher mysteries and above the weaknesses of the flesh the others gave into so eagerly. And to a true Skeksis, outward appearance was everything. 

Underneath it, what else did they have?

* * *

Cera-Na was as colorful and noisy as always. SkekZok knew that the floating Sifa village must be quiet _sometimes_ as ships came and went with the seasons, but since he only visited during the grand gatherings that formed around the Mariner’s arrival, he had never seen it otherwise. 

And there she was, skekSa herself, striding down the glittering gangplank of the _Omerya._ Her rich plumage had thinned over the trine, gray creeping into the blue that had once held all the colors of the sea and sky, but she still carried herself with the strength he’d always admired. 

“You look awful,” the Mariner chuckled as she approached. “The journey must have been a rough one.” 

SkekZok allowed himself a smile. “A worthy sacrifice, to receive the Lord Mariner’s gifts.”

“How kind of you. Come!” She clapped her hands, addressing the crowd of Gelfling who had gathered around them. “The Lord Ritual-Master has traveled far to be here with us. See to his carriage, and prepare him a bath and a meal.” She grinned. “Show him the true hospitality of the Sifa!” 

The devoted Gelfling were all too happy to obey. As they set to their tasks, however, skekSa and skekZok exchanged a look and a smirk. They both knew exactly why she wanted him to clean up now, and a rush of heat and anticipation flooded through him. 

It really had been too long. 

* * *

Late in the evening, after the two Skeksis had had their fill of basking in the adoration of their subjects, they made their way across ship after ship, heading for the largest of the rocky headlands that marked the coast around them. 

“It’s not too late for me to call Vassa,” skekSa whispered. “We’d have even more privacy on board.” 

SkekZok shook his head. “Our usual place would suit me better.” He’d been aboard the Mariner’s monstrous ship-beast many times before, and was still impressed at how thoroughly she’d trained and subdued the behemoth, but it didn’t change the fact that Vassa’s insides smelled, and he wasn’t in the mood for that tonight. 

Out here was much more pleasant. The salty sea air always reminded him delightfully of blood, and it mingled with the spicy scent of the fire corals that grew along the rocks below them. As they made their way up a narrow stair carved into the headland, nearly invisible from sea level, he drew close to skekSa and smelled _her_ too: salt, lantern-smoke, the rich liquor the Sifa had served them, and her own clean musk, underlaid with the heady tang of arousal. 

The Sifa lived on their ships as much as possible, but at their patron Lord’s request, they had carved this chamber for her into the peak of the headland long ago, where she could meet with her fellow Skeksis in complete privacy. Some matters, she’d explained, were too lofty for Gelfling ears to understand (and then she’d laughed, as if sharing a private joke with her favorite clan, that the other Lords also got seasick if they went too long without land under their feet, but that the Sifa should not mention this).

At the top of the stairs, a flat stretch of stone formed a natural balcony. A weatherbeaten door was built into the red-tan rock, framed by two windows set with thick glass tinted the colors of the suns. Once they were inside, skekSa took a moment to light a single lamp, and then they were on each other. 

Talons gripped, tearing at cloth-of-gold and thick red brocade. Tongues tangled, tasting meat and drink and each other, not shying away from the prick of sharp teeth. SkekSa was among the few of their kind who could match the Ritual-Master in height, and he couldn’t resist as she shoved him toward the bed - even if he’d wanted to. 

“So what’s it going to be?” she panted, her deep, velvety voice thick with desire. “Do we just start rutting, or do you want to have some _fun_ first?” 

He laughed darkly. “You know me well. It’s been a long time, we should make it special.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” 

Letting go of him for a moment, she went to another tall wooden door built into the wall. From the cabinet inside, she took a length of heavy ship’s rope, and snapped it between her hands. SkekZok’s blue eyes shot wide, and another flood of heat pooled in his groin. 

Grinning toothily, skekSa approached him again. “The word’s the same: _hooyim._ Now, Ritual-Master, take your vestments off.” 

It was a struggle getting out of his heavy, elaborate golden robes without Podling servants to assist him, but skekZok managed. Although she’d told him to strip, he took care to keep his ceremonial headdress on. It was such a vital part of his image, he never took it off unless he had no other choice - and besides, it was fun to get a rise out of the Mariner by being just a _little_ disobedient. 

SkekSa noticed, of course, but said nothing. She knew what he was playing at, and she could play that game too. If he wanted to defy her, she’d show him why she wasn’t one to be crossed. 

At her direction, skekZok got on the bed, kneeling on the silky blood-black quilt. He lifted his primary arms, and she deftly knotted the rope around one wrist, then the other. There was a thick iron ring bolted to the rock ceiling above them, and she looped the cord through it, hauling his arms up until he was suspended, still on his knees, just on the edge of pain. 

Once that was done, she wasted no time in snatching the headdress off. 

“When I said take off your vestments, I meant _all_ of them.” Still grinning, she made a show of stroking the withered horn. “You’ll have to be punished for that.” 

“Of course.” He bowed his head, trying not to grin _too_ much. “When we fail each other, we _must_ be punished.” 

“Good, then you understand.” Fangs glinting in the lamplight, she opened her maw and ran her wet, red tongue along the curving horn. She curled it teasingly around the tip, making him remember all the times she’d done the same to certain parts of him. 

SkekZok bit back an undignified whimper. That horn was a holy relic, one the Hunter had brought him long ago from the sacred (and now extinct) rek’ardan beast. The fact that skekZok had been the one who proclaimed it sacred in the first place changed nothing; to see skekSa treat it in such a profane way was nothing short of sacrilege. 

And it was also enough to leave him hard, dripping, and eager for more. 

After a moment’s thought, she took the scarf from around her neck, and tied his secondary arms too. Another night, she might have used it to blindfold him, but tonight she wanted him to _watch_ what she had planned. 

She stripped off her plumed hat, coat, and the armored skirt she favored, and drew her sword from its sheath. It was one of the smaller ones she owned, no longer than her primary forearm: a single-edged saber not very different from the ones the Sifa often carried. When the curved tip caught the lamplight, it glinted, clean and bright and razor-sharp. 

SkekZok’s breath caught. 

It was this that had first brought them together. The Ritual-Master enjoyed receiving pain almost as much as he loved administering it, but there were no Skeksis at the Castle he trusted enough to allow near him with a blade (at least, not any that he knew desired him too), and asking it of a Gelfling was out of the question. He worked hard to keep up his austere image, and his private lusts weren’t worth the risk of gossip and losing the fear of those beneath him. 

But the Mariner didn’t care about any of that. And she had lusts of her own, ones she couldn’t easily indulge when she spent most of her time with only Gelfling for company. For her to be able to enjoy herself with a bedmate she didn’t have to worry about tearing apart (in any number of ways) was a welcome treat. 

Naked except for her sword belt, she prowled closer, blade at the ready and tail twitching with excitement. She started out slow, the way they both liked: teasing him with the flat edge of the sword, letting him savor the cool steel against his sensitive sides and hips, his skin prickling at the touch. The faint scent of the metal, so close to blood, was thrilling as always. When she scratched the tip lightly along his inner thigh, he moaned, and couldn’t stop himself from thrusting toward her. 

“Ah-ah, none of that!” She leaned in, her breath hot against his bony cheek, and stroked his bare neck tantalizingly with her talons. “I mean it. I’m trying not to cut you except where you want it, so that means you have to keep still until I say so. Understand?”

“Yes, of course,” he panted. “Please, don’t stop!”

She laughed, deep and rich. “Well, I _am_ a generous captain...” 

SkekSa sliced the blade faster than the Ritual-Master’s eye could follow. A shallow, hair-thin cut opened along skekZok’s left hip, and he cried out in mingled rapture and pain. 

She waited to see if he’d give the safeword. When it did not come, more cuts followed: along his other hip, his thighs, even a delicate one on his right breast that might have taken a nipple off if the Mariner hadn’t been so careful, so skilled. SkekZok relished them all. There were no politics here, no rituals to follow: only his own body and blood, agonizing pleasure, and the lovely, lovely _blade_. 

But skekSa was far from done. 

SkekZok was crushed for a moment when she set the sword down, but his interest was piqued again as he watched her take a bottle off the nearby table. As she poured the dark gold liquid into a goblet, he smelled the same rich liquor they’d had earlier: a sweet but potent drink that called up images of hot, distant islands and exotic plants he had no name for. The ever-dutiful Gelfling had loaded several casks of it into the carriage, and it was sure to be popular back at the Castle, but she’d saved the best of it for herself. 

She brought the goblet over, and grinned in a way that made the Ritual-Master’s quills rise in anticipation. “I had this idea after watching some of the Gelfling healers. Did you know, this stuff’s almost as good for cleaning wounds as it is for getting you sloshed?”

He realized what she was getting at, and his vent and erections throbbed. “You’ll have to show me.”

“Gladly.” She gripped the goblet in one secondary hand, keeping it steady as she climbed onto the bed with him. She dipped her fingers in the liquid, soaking them thoroughly, and wiped a swath of it over the cut on his left thigh. 

A ragged scream rose from skekZok’s throat, and his tail lashed. The stinging torment of the alcohol on his wounded flesh was almost as painful as the initial cut had been - pain that faded into pleasure as skekSa brought her mouth to the wound and deftly licked it clean. “You may look awful,” she chuckled, “but you still taste as good as ever.”

She repeated the action again and again, bringing his wounds agony with the liquor and ecstasy with her mouth. She saved the one on his breast for last, and lavished his nipple with her powerful tongue, while her talons scratched and teased his others. 

Now that she wasn’t holding a blade on him, skekZok didn’t bother trying to keep still. He writhed under her touch, still hanging from the ring above, the raw friction of the rope on his wrists its own delightful torture. His twin erections, a deep gray-pink, were so hard that they ached, and she hadn’t even touched them yet. 

Well, skekSa intended to remedy that. Her victim had submitted well to his punishment, now he deserved a reward. 

She poured the last few drops of liquor over his erections, and chased them with her hot, slippery tongue. She knew her touch was lighter than the desperate Ritual-Master probably would have liked at this point, but that was part of the fun. This was one of her greatest personal pleasures: reducing the stately, formidable skekZok to a trembling, bloody, pleading mess as he dangled helplessly above her bed like a fresh-caught saberfish. 

If any of their fellow Skeksis saw him now (or worse, any of the Gelfling), he’d never live it down. But skekSa had no intention of ever letting that happen. Seeing him like this was _her_ pleasure and no one else’s, and she guarded what was hers fiercely. 

She toyed with his lengths for a while longer, alternating licks with light strokes from the blunt curve of her talons, before she spoke to him. “I can finish you off this way, you know. Is that what you want?”

He knew the answer she wanted, and shook his head desperately. “N-no, please, I need…”

“Need what? Need _me?_ ” She traced her talons lower, over his open, soaking vent. “Is that it, Ritual-Master? You need me inside you?” 

“Pleeease…!”

“Please _what?_ ” Reaching down, she fetched her sword again. Instead of turning the blade on him this time, however, she brought the hilt up, and teased his vent with the rounded pommel. He gasped, his heated flesh shivering around the smooth metal. 

“Mariner … _skekSa!_ …” 

He was begging, all his fancy words gone, every nerve on fire with need. When he still gave no hint of the safeword, she worked the sword handle deeper inside him, until the pommel rubbed against the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves in his upper wall. He cried out again, thrusting, trying to fuck himself on her sword. 

Yes, it was sublime to watch him like this, but skekSa was getting impatient herself. Her own erections, a rich crimson that was striking against the grayed blue of her skin and plumage, were swollen and leaking with her own need, and growing too hard to ignore. 

Suddenly jealous of her own sword, she slid it out of him, making him gasp at the loss. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She slashed upward, cutting the ropes that bound his hands with one deft stroke. SkekZok dropped limply onto the bed, and a moment later she was on top of him, her sword clattering to the floor. 

He spread his legs eagerly as she entered him. Her lengths filled him perfectly, hot and firm, better than any toy or blade. When she started to thrust, he panted, grinding his arousal between their bodies and digging his talons into the feathers along her broad back.

“Oh skekSa ... _mhh!_ … that’s … _ah!_ ... oh Thra _…_ “

“ _Ngh! …_ sweet horizons, you’re tight …” 

“I’ve needed this …”

“So have I …”

They moved together, finding the rhythm that pleased them both. It wasn’t as easy as it had once been (neither of them were as young or limber as they used to be), but it was still familiar, and very welcome. Their tongues found each other again, the wooden bed shaking under them as hips rocked, limbs clutched, and tails twined. Under the heated fog of lust and pleasure, they chased that unspoken emptiness that lived inside all of them, trying to _fill_ it in any way they could …

As aroused as he’d already been, it didn’t surprise either of them when skekZok came first. He arched under her, his talons drawing lines of blood across her shoulders as he wrapped his bony legs around her. His seed spilled between them in a hot, sticky flood. With all the screaming he’d done earlier, all he could manage now was a rough, raspy cry that was sweet as music to the Mariner. 

SkekSa bit his neck, fangs digging into his gray, wrinkled skin, and felt her own climax crash over her. She kept up the mating bite, muffling her own cry as she rode out the wave of overwhelming bliss. 

At last they lay together, spent beyond words, soaking in their own sweat and fluids. It was filthy, utterly unbecoming of a Ritual-Master, and it was another part of these nights that skekZok loved. 

Even so, it wasn’t something they wanted to wallow in _all_ night. Now that they’d both had their fill, they were exhausted, and they each had wounds that needed tending to, especially if they wanted to avoid awkward questions from the Gelfling tomorrow. 

Of the two of them, skekSa still had enough energy to get up. She did so, bringing a faint whimper from skekZok at the feel of her softening members leaving his vent. From the cabinet, she retrieved the healer’s kit they kept for these occasions and brought it over to the bedside table, along with a jug of herbal-smelling water. 

“Here, let me take care of you.” After removing the scarf and remaining bits of rope from his wrists, she soaked a soft cloth in the water, and carefully cleaned all the blood and seed from his thighs, belly, and neck. His cuts were still oozing a little, so skekZok watched as she took out a lump of powdery white stone and rubbed it over the thin wounds. He still didn’t quite understand how this substance worked (he’d asked skekTek once, and had received a needlessly complicated lecture about ‘vasoconstriction’ and ‘flocculation’), but it did the trick: the cuts dried up instantly. 

“Remember, you still have to make sure you keep them clean,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him as she nuzzled him affectionately. With their pent-up desires now spent, they could let softer feelings show. “I wouldn’t mind if you kept a few scars, but I know you’re vain about that. There shouldn’t be any as long as you take it easy.” 

He laughed softly and nuzzled her in return, his gaunt cheek rubbing against her lightly-feathered one. “We’ll see what happens. But come now, I know I left some marks on you too. Why don’t you let me tend to you for once?” 

He wasn’t nearly as skilled at healing as skekSa (his interest had always been more in causing injuries than in patching them up), but he’d seen her do it to him plenty of times; it wasn’t hard to figure out how to clean and dry the bloody scratches his talons had made on her back. From the purrs the Mariner made, it seemed she approved of his efforts. 

Once they’d finished cleaning and tending to each other (and she’d finally taken off her sword belt), they settled in under the covers. SkekSa’s body was warm and solid as she draped herself over him, and skekZok buried the scarred tip of his beak in her mane, enjoying her scent. Tired as they both were, neither was quite on the verge of sleep yet, so they took this time to rest in the afterglow and enjoy each other’s embrace. 

“I am glad you still haven’t lost your stamina,” she teased him. “But I meant what I said earlier. You’re _not_ looking well. I’ve told you and the others you need to get out of the Castle more often. Get some fresh air, go for a swim. Eat more fruit. It’ll do you a world of good, I promise.” 

“My health is perfectly fine,” he replied, with a smug smile. “The Crystal sustains us, as it has always done and always will. _You’re_ just insatiable.” 

Her rose-red eyes narrowed. “... If you say so.” For a moment, it seemed she wanted to add something more. But she thought better of it, and returned his smile, stroking a hand lightly over his bald head. “You’re lucky I have a fondness for skulls and bones.” 

That got another chuckle out of him, and he cuddled her closer. During times like this, he wondered what it might be like to have her live in the Castle with him, day after day, as his chosen mate. Or (if she could ever convince him) to follow her out to sea, joining her on her travels aboard Vassa. If they could be together always …

… It would probably end in disaster. Fond as they were of each other, the two of them were still very different Skeksis, who wanted different things out of their lives on Thra. If they had to spend all their time together, those differences might eventually turn fondness to hatred, and they’d lose the very pleasant arrangement they already had. 

Yes, better to keep what they had now. A night of agony and ecstasy a few times each trine, and unum of exquisite anticipation in between. 

Still, no reason they couldn’t draw this time out while it lasted.

“I should see if I can stay another night. I’ll come up with some excuse for the Emperor.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want to have you inside me before you leave, and get a taste of that tongue of yours.”

He licked the edge of her jaw. “I’ll make it my solemn vow.” 

* * *

When they breakfasted with Maudra Lidaan and her court aboard the _Omerya_ the next day, the maudra’s oldest son pointed out a passing school of hooyim fish. The sight was always a joy for the Sifa, and he was eager to impress the Lords with the beauty of his clan’s sigil animal. 

Poor boy, he never did figure out why the Mariner and the Ritual-Master shared a private laugh. 

* * *

**The End**


End file.
